there are answers here, they're just harder to figure out
by orange-yarn
Summary: The 100 High School AU, Part 2. Last year, the Ark Central High Varsity soccer team was only the third worst in the entire league. It was actually a high point in Rocketeer history. (Bellamy POV. Sequel to "I can't help the fuss, I'd trade it for quiet.")


**The 100 High School AU. Follows "I can't help the fuss, I'd trade it for quiet," but technically you can read this one on its own. I recommend reading through chronologically, though.**

**This installment is in Bellamy's POV, and actually covers the soccer game that you saw at the end of the last story. I think it's kind of funny?**

**Title is from "Backflip" by The Front Bottoms.**

* * *

There is an entire trophy case, down by the gymnasium, dedicated to the Ark Central High Varsity Lacrosse team. Those guys have won the state championship every year for the past eight years. There are posters plastered above water fountains, and on every third locker, with inspirational messages like ACHIEVE and PERSEVERANCE overlaid across their smug faces.

You went to one of their games, once. Seemed like the entire school turned out. Kids were up on their feet, chanting and shouting, the entire game. If lacrosse was your sport, you'd be a goddamn legend at this school. Bellamy Blake, the poster would say, and you'd pose like you were on a box of Wheaties. LEADERSHIP.

Last year, the Ark Central High Varsity Soccer team was only the third worst in the entire league. It was actually a high point in Rocketeer history.

This year, though, this year is going to be different. After two years stuck on reserve, you've finally made it to starting goalkeeper, and the coach proved he did have at least half a brain and made you captain. If anyone can lead this team to victory, it's you.

Or at least, you could, if your team could just remember how to kick a ball.

"Murphy!" Your shout echoes in the nearly empty stadium. "Are you gonna put the ball in the net, or do I have to come up there and do it myself?"

Murphy, unsurprisingly, does _not _manage to put the ball in the net, no matter how beautifully Monty, one of the new sophomores, crosses it to him. Within moments the other team regains control of the game, blasting through your midfield and defense with little to no effort.

Wells is the last defender, before the ball gets to you and the goal. Wells, you think, is actively trying to lose this game, because he could be doing the cha-cha slide across the field and still get here faster than he's moving now.

You charge the opposing player, but he gets a shot off before you can stop him and _boom_, just like that, buries the ball in the back right corner of the net. The scoreboard blinks an update almost mockingly fast, like the guys up there had their finger on the button, just waiting.

HOME 0, AWAY 5.

* * *

The final score ends up 0-8. Most of the second half the other team just runs in circles around your guys, and you nearly shout yourself hoarse. If you could just figure out how to get your team to play like...well, to play like a team, things would be different.

You're still working on that part.

After the game there's the obligatory handshakes with the other team. Murphy growls at each passing player, and you have to sort of shove him along to keep him moving. You think the only reason he made it through the game without a yellow card is the referee was feeling sorry for you.

You glance up at the bleachers. Most of the crowd has filtered out - and by "crowd" you mean the few sets of parents that had bothered to show up. _Octavia_ won't even come to your games, which just adds insult to injury.

There are two kids still sitting up there, though, and if it takes you a little too long to recognize them, it's only because they're the last two people you'd expect to see here.

Clarke Griffin has been in your classes on and off since elementary school. The two of you have never really run in the same circles, and honestly you've always found her a little stuck-up. She came out to most of the games last year, back when she was dating Wells - but based on the way Wells has been angsting around the practice field all summer, you're pretty sure that's over. And you know she can't stand you, not after what happened with her stepbrother.

You still feel guilty about what happened with Jasper - not that you'd admit it to anyone, ever. It was something of a tradition, a big party the weekend before soccer tryouts. Even the underclassmen get invited, for a very specific purpose. A lot of people might technically call it hazing, but you prefer the term _right of passage_. The seniors did the same thing to you when you were a sophomore, they did it to everyone, and you were all fine.

Things didn't work out so well for Jasper. While you were all at tryouts he was in a coma, and even now you doubt he's been cleared for any kind of contact sport. It's too bad, the kid was a decent player. You're sure he could have at least kicked the ball in the general direction of the goal.

Honestly, after what went down you all should have gotten suspended from the team, maybe even arrested. You're sure you would have, except the party was at Wells's house, and you can't really arrest the Mayor's kid, not with reelection on the line. You're all really lucky the kid didn't up and die, since you doubt even the Mayor could have gotten that swept under the rug.

"Bellamy." Atom's voice snaps you back to reality. He nods toward the locker rooms. "You coming?"

"Yeah," you say, glancing up one last time at Clarke, leaning against the railing. They must be waiting for Monty, is all you can figure. There's no other reason they would show. Not that it even matters.

You shake your head to clear it, and jog to catch up with your team.

* * *

If your team is expecting some sort of pep talk when you get to the locker room, then they're disappointed. You lost all your pep the third or fourth time you got scored on, thanks to your defense utterly failing to defend. You do manage to say, "We'll be better next time," and you say it with conviction, so that'll have to be good enough for tonight.

You're packing up your bag when Finn drops onto the bench next to you. Finn's another senior, but new to the team - he transferred to Ark Central halfway through last year, after the season was already over. You know he played at his last school, and he's solid. He's out in midfield, and he puts in the effort to get wherever he's needed, which is more than you can say for some of your teammates.

"You know, on my old team," he says conversationally, and you are trying to remember if you have ever actually spoken to him before, other than to shout orders across the field, "me and the guys used to go to the Waffle House after every game. To celebrate."

You blink, and wonder where he's been for the past ninety minutes, because he obviously wasn't at the same game as you. "What, exactly, would we be celebrating?" you ask, very slowly, thinking maybe he took a knock to the head and nobody noticed.

"Could have been 0-9." Finn's got this look on his face, like he's trying to read you, to gauge your reaction. You aren't sure how you feel about it.

You look around the locker room, at your teammates, who are putting off this aura that's half dejected, half looking for a fight. If you don't figure something out, you know, you're in for an entire season of games like this one.

Finn must be looking, too, or just flat out reading your mind, because he says, "Might be good for morale. Team bonding, or whatever." He shrugs.

It's a stupid plan, as in, a total waste of your time. But, it's not like things can get much worse, and anyway, you're starving.

"Alright, guys," you call out, clapping your hands together. "Listen up."

* * *

**For the record, this is the quickest you will EVER see this series update. I'm a teacher, and this is the last weekend of spring break, so I will not have much time to write, but I'll do my best to make it happen.**

**Please let me know what you think!**


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